The officer lifted the lid of the mahogany box, revealing the tarnished silver inside.

But as he moved the box, a smaller, locked metal strongbox fell from the shelf behind it.

It hit the concrete floor with a heavy thud.

The latch broke open, spilling several documents and a small, leather-bound diary onto the floor.

I looked down at the diary.

It was bound in worn blue leather, with my father’s initials embossed in faded gold on the cover.

I bent down to pick it up, but Lydia caught my arm.

“Let the deputy document it first, Claire,” she whispered.

Malcolm shone his flashlight onto the papers that had scattered from the strongbox.

Among them was a folded, yellowed document with a red wax seal.

I stared at the seal, my heart hammering against my ribs.

It was the original deed to the Hayes estate—the one Evan claimed had been lost in the fire ten years ago.

But there was something else taped to the back of the deed.

A folded piece of lined paper, covered in Vivian’s sharp, elegant handwriting.